


The Paradox of Pre-Destination

by KitschyKit



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dreamsharing, Free Will, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romantic Soulmates, Scene: Garden of Eden (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21881752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitschyKit/pseuds/KitschyKit
Summary: It starts, as it ends, with a Garden.Free Will has just been invented, and in response, She creates soulmates that find each other through shared dreams. Aziraphale, the first Angel to exploit a loophole, decides he'll just never sleep. Crowley, the first Demon with anxiety, thinks that he wasn't assigned a soulmate as punishment for the Original Sin.There's a high chance that they are not meant for each other; but it's easier to hope if they just never know for sure.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 253
Collections: Ixnael’s Recommendations, Ixnael’s SFW corner, Oh Come All Ye Sinful! A Depraved Holiday Exchange 2019





	The Paradox of Pre-Destination

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LenaLawlipop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LenaLawlipop/gifts).



> For the M25 x IT gift exchange, and for my giftee Lena. Based on the prompt: "AU where soulmates share dreams, but Aziraphale has never slept before, and so Crowley thinks he's so unlovable he doesn't even have a soulmate."
> 
> I went in a little bit of a different direction, mostly because I'm not used to writing in Aziraphale's POV, but I'm glad I did it this way, and I hope you do too.

“Angel,” came the demanding whisper. “Angel _wake up!”_

Aziraphale blinked and looked down at the snake known as Crawley, who was looking off to the side, alert but not alarmed. 

“I wasn’t asleep,” Azirapahle protested, and it was enough of a truth that he felt he could say it. “I was just enjoying the sunshine like you were.” 

He _had_ been legitimately enjoying his rest; the soothing breeze of a perfect day carried birdsong and the faint scent of honeysuckle, and the two human-shaped beings had come together in an empty Garden while they waited on their next orders. 

“Basking I think it’s called,” said Crawley, still distracted, and he abruptly changed into his human form, laying across Aziraphale in a tangle of limbs and hastily-miracled cloth. “So I’ve been thinking.” 

“Maybe you should leave me out of it then,” Aziraphale said, fretting as he was wont to do. 

“You set yourself up for too many jokes at your expense,” replied Crawley, not unkindly. “But— just listen.” 

This was not the first of the tangents Aziraphale had listened to since Adam and Eve left the Garden, and he had a feeling it would not be the last. He laid back down the grass instead, and felt the warmth of Crawley’s body against his.*

*(He had not yet been taught to keep his distance emotionally or physically. That would come later. Even though they were enemies, the one bond stronger than soulmates was the one formed when you found someone just as lonely as you.) 

“So lead balloon went down, crashed and burned right? Still, not a total failure since She’s making more all over—“ Crawley’s hands gestured with him, wild and rowdy when human-shaped compared to his composed and still snake-form. (Or, Aziraphale reflected, maybe it was just the lack of limbs to flail that made the Serpent seem composed.) “But if she’s also making soul-bonded pairs, how do you suppose they’re gonna find each other? Do they just know? Ba-Bamn, holy lightning strike, sudden flash of celestial inspiration and congratulations? Or is it physical? New body parts? Spots or something? Oh tails maybe, tails would be fun.” 

“I doubt it’s tails,” said Aziraphale absently. “Maybe they’ll be able to sense it, like how emotions make corporations feel phantom pain.”

“They have too many emotions,” Crawley replied as he pressed his cheek into Aziraphale’s chest, leeching off his warmth. “Maybe colors? Maybe they’d finally be able to see the color—“

A scroll of Heaven appeared before Aziraphale and then promptly lost the fight with gravity, falling directly onto his face.* Crowley choked in the middle of his sentence, rearing back to blink at the offending scroll. 

*(It must be understood that The Universe, in its ineffable timing, is known to set its watch by Her, which is the author’s way of saying that comedic timing is never an accident.)

Aziraphale squinted at it as he picked it up off his face, and then his eyes widened. “Policy change 201, article 9. Regarding Soulbonds and the regulations thereof.” 

“You’re joking,” Crawley said flatly.* 

*(She was not).

Aziraphale didn’t answer, because he stuck his nose into the scroll and came out the other side somehow even more befuddled than before. 

“They find each other through Dreams,” Aziraphale said out loud. “ _Really_?” It was not a Question, but he winced at his own forwardness, still on proverbial thin ice after the whole Sword Incident™. 

“That’s kinda brilliant actually,” said Crawley. “All that imagination gets swirled around between their ears and they get to share it with another person. People?” He twisted around to look over Aziraphale’s shoulder, but the paper just made his eyes hurt. “What exactly are the terms?” 

“I’m afraid it’s rather vague,” replied Aziraphale, a troubled frown building at the corner of his mouth but never quite turning down. 

“Even better,” Crawley said. “More loopholes to exploit.” 

Aziraphale looked down at him. “Why would you want to exploit something that is supposed to be a tool for love?” 

“Why let them have free will if they can’t exercise it to go against destiny?” Crawley countered. 

“She didn’t give them free will,” Aziraphale pointed out. “You did.” 

“So soulmates are Her way of exercising control over them again is that it?” Crawley huffed. “To Hell with that, I guarantee it’ll get messy somehow.”

“You were all for it a minute ago.” Aziraphale said, puzzled and not liking the feeling. 

Crawley turned his head away from him, tucking his nose into Aziraphale’s neck, arms crossed. When he spoke, it was quiet, and filled with a sorrow that did not belong in Paradise.

“It’s comforting that way.” Said the Serpent. “To think that our choices matter— especially when you want what you can’t have. Someone you love might belong to someone else.” 

“She wouldn’t do that,” said Aziraphale, but he stared down at the woefully-brief memo, seeking clarity that wasn’t there, and he felt like water was rising in his chest, a rip current tugging at his heart. “Would She?” 

“I suppose we’ll find out,” said Crawley, and in the next moment he was standing in front of Aziraphale, hand outstretched. “I think it’s about time we leave the Garden anyway.” 

Aziraphale didn’t sleep. 

At first, it was because he was traveling. She had created humans to populate the Earth, and while none were as important as the First Family, the others needed to be witnessed as well, so for the longest time Aziraphale roamed. 

He roamed, and told stories. 

Aziraphale favored tradition, especially the human tradition of oral storytelling, and so he hoarded fables and second-hand jokes and the plots of ballads sung under warm starry nights. But he didn’t sleep. He traveled when he wasn’t socializing or working, which meant the hours of the day were filled with following the steps of the humans that had come before him. 

Years had passed before someone thought to tell him that Angels had soulmates too. 

“Demon’s too?” He had asked, unthinkingly, and watched the way Crowley curled into himself. 

“Everyone but me,” Crowley had replied. “I’m the only one that doesn’t dream. Not that I’d ever tell anyone that.” 

This also marked the first time that Aziraphale had gotten properly drunk, since fermented drinks had become increasingly popular and practical. There were a lot of “first experiences”* with Crowley— and after Crowley had ranted and raved about Demonic soulmates while they refilled an entire jug over thrice well… it was a first time for hangovers too, when they miracled themselves sober come dawn. 

*(except one notable type of First Time)

Aziraphale wasn’t quite sure how to handle it; the knowledge that he could have a soulmate. It felt foreign as it felt like it was supposed to be something only for humans. He was conflicted and aimless in the idea of Love beyond Hers, and the one person Aziraphale wanted to express these overwhelming feelings too had left, too hungover and angry to be much help.

Aziraphale didn’t like that he belonged to someone he’d never met. He liked it even less that Crowley didn’t belong to _anyone._ But at least, if he ever so chose it, Aziraphale had the chance at love— or he didn’t.

The nature of the paradox was that he was both loved and unloved, as long as he never dreamed and found out. 

So he just never slept. Yet, over the course of human history, the paradox shifted and warped, turning into a more specific question that was both daunting to address and impossible to ignore. 

Aziraphale was Crowley’s soulmate, and he wasn’t. He wanted to be, desperately, but knew it had the potential to destroy them. And yet, if they weren’t made for each other; if Aziraphale was destined for happiness with another, and Crowley to never find love altogether— It didn’t bear thinking about. It wasn’t a reality Aziraphale could risk. 

Crowley slept for over fifty years, and Aziraphale waited with bated breath for a verdict, and when it was more of the same Aziraphale then got Crowley good and drunk and let him cry on his shoulder for two hours while air raid sirens wailed in the distance. Aziraphale was secretly relieved, and not-so-secretly furious at anything and everything that made Crowley think for a moment that he wasn’t loved for exactly who he was. 

It also meant that Aziraphale was furious with himself, because he could hold his best friend close to him, whispering comfort like a prayer, but never once anoint him with any real sign of affection. Heaven was watching, but the paradox shifted once again. 

They were in Love, and yet not. A delicate tightrope of justified actions and ineffable bonds. Crowley was in on it too now, never unscrewing the cap, never opening Schrodinger’s box, never going too fast to upset the balance.

There was hope in uncertainty, and if Aziraphale never knew for sure that he had a soulmate then they could both keep pretending that they were made for each other, and that they weren’t two broken puzzle pieces from different boxes, awkwardly pressed together. They fit together in the moment, but the picture they made was all wrong. And yet still, they had hope. 

And then they got back from the Ritz, flush from victory and champagne as the pink sunset of dusk settled over the harsh lines of Crowley’s flat, casting rose colored light upon his hair, in his eyes as he removes his sunglasses, and Aziraphale suddenly so overcome he couldn’t breathe. 

When is a paradox no longer a paradox? When does it become a decision yet unmade? 

Aziraphale made his decision. 

“Can I kiss you?” He blurted out, because there was honestly nothing more that he wanted to do. 

Crowley’s eyes snapped to his, predatory slits in golden eyes narrowing as he processed the words. And then, heart-breakingly, he took a small step back. “That’s not a good idea.” 

Aziraphale didn’t take a step forward, but he didn’t look away either. “And why is that? No one is watching us anymore.” 

Crowley’s facade cracked. “I didn’t think you wanted a soulmate.” 

“I don’t,” Aziraphale did take a step forward this time, and Crowley let him. “I want you.” 

“I’m not fit to care for you like you deserve,” Crowley warned, but he let Aziraphale take another step closer. 

“You’ve always been perfect for me dear. You’re—” 

“I’m the one that made her do all this in the first place,” Crowley interrupted, and it was almost rehearsed, the constant Ouroboros reasoning. _I am unloved because I am mateless, I am mateless because I am unloved._ Yet it was tinged with desperation, voice breaking in places as he spoke.“Don’t you remember? Says ‘fuck they’ve got free will now, guess I’ll just have _predestined soulmates_ and fuck this one disobedient snake in particular.’ Just another reason for me to shake my fist at Her y'know? Crawl in the dirt, love like humans do and never _ever_ know what it’s like to be loved in return.” 

“You _are_ ,” Aziraphale hissed back, and the release of it felt like the clouds breaking open, a lightning storm of emotion filling the room with _love._ “You know you are, my dearest, you _must_ know.” 

Crowley’s scowl deepened. “You belong to—” 

“I belong to no one but Her.” Aziraphale said, raising his chin. “Not to a soulmate, or to Heaven or to even you. But I do love you, and I’m done pretending otherwise.” 

Crowley sucked in a breath, his chest a shaky box of butterflies, as his heart was currently taking up residence in his throat. “You— you love me.” 

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes.” 

“What happens if you do sleep?” Crowley argued then, but it was more about finally being able to voice festering insecurities than a protest. “What if you realize I could never compare?” 

“To who?” Aziraphale asked bluntly. “To this imaginary figure that I’ve done a bang up job of ignoring until now? From a Heaven that tried to burn me earlier today? I think I will stay right here with you my dear, if you’ll have me.” 

“Of course I will,” Crowley scoffed, but he didn’t move any closer, trembling arms crossed, tucked into his shaking frame. “And I believe you, but—” 

Aziraphale reached out, his own fumbling fallible hands coaxing Crowley’s out, fingers twisting in each other’s grasp in-between them. 

“I’ve said a lot of things I didn’t mean this week,” Aziraphale said softly, and smiled at Crowley’s expressive wince. “I made the choice to never dream, because it would have been worse knowing, and to have to give up hope,” and he hardened his voice. “That was selfish of me. And I’m sorry for making that choice for the both of us when it was no longer just about me. I’m sorry for ever letting it mean this much— especially now, when I know that it would actually not make a difference at all.” 

Crowley blinked. “It- it wouldn’t? Angel are you— are you _defying_ Her plan?” He was grinning for the first time since they had gotten back from the Ritz, wide and open and _delighted_. 

“We lived in a loophole for long enough.” Aziraphale said with finality, blushing a little under that smile. “Nor should you ever feel like you are second best, or an exception.” Thousands of years of longing howled and raged outside, swirling in their mixed energies, but with their hands clasped together they were suspended: floating gently in the eye of the storm.

“I love you Crowley. You are loved. Truly my darling, you are.” 

“Sleep with me?” Crowley asked after the words had sunk in and smoothed out the lines of his face, and he softly, oh so softly, reached up to cup Aziraphale’s cheek. “Wake up with me too. And tell me that again.” 

Aziraphale nodded, and while fear crawled up his throat, cuddling Crowley in his large bed was a luxury he didn’t want to miss out on. 

“I love you too,” Crowley whispered into his chest when they were settled, breathing in sync in the dark. “I love you.” 

Aziraphale slept.

He was still in darkness, but curiously, his other senses were not dulled. What should’ve been soft silk under his palms was soft earth instead; delicate blades of grass and the warmth of a desert sun on his skin. Birds from faraway regions sang, and the faintest hint of honeysuckle reached his nose. The wind carried through the trees, a soothing breeze of a perfect day, and Aziraphale realized that this wasn’t a dream, but it was a _memory_. 

Maybe even a shared one. 

_“Angel!”_ Came the delighted whisper. _"Wake up!”_

**Author's Note:**

> It was their choice, in the end. And isn't is a lovely thought, to think that our choices matter? I think it is.


End file.
